A Different Kind of Winter
by Ichko
Summary: Lissandra ends up in the world of Westeros years before the start of the events we are all familiar with... but how will her presence change them? No pairings (for now, at least)
1. Chapter 1

**A Different Kind of Winter - Chapter 1**

**I do not own League of Legends or A song of Ice and Fire/Game of Thrones**

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Nine years.

It has been nine years since that strange woman entered their small happy world. Catelyn still remembers the day in which she become a part of their family, sort to speak, this woman with hair as white as snow, skin colder than ice.

Ned was just returning with his host, him and his old friend, king Robert the first having just finished putting down the Greyjoy rebellion. The strange woman was been carried in a cart, the men having found her on their way home, but a few leagues away, south of Winterfell. The Tully woman was never one for northerner lore, but she quickly knew why most men kept their distance from her. She did resemble an Other greatly, and even if she did not, her white hair was one of the distinctive features of the former rules – the Targaryans.

The woman remained unconscious for months and frankly Catelyn was unnerved by her very presence. Ned promised her on multiple occasions that he will personally put her down should she prove a threat, although that did little to ease her worries. She was born in the light of the seven and this… this was not natural. Her husband, on the other hand, insisted that they should take care of her, especially considering they found her underneath a lone heart tree, standing on a small frozen hill. The Tully daughter cursed the northerners and their superstitions for many months since that day.

No one really knew why she did not wake up. Maester Lywin said she was physically fit, no damage to her body, except for her blind eyes that did not react to the candle light, remaining blood red, and of course, the ice-cold skin. Those eyes of her… Catelyn was there when the old maester was examining that specific part of her anatomy and if her icy presence unnerved her before, she was outright frightened now. The red eyes, even when the measter claimed she was blind, even when she was unconscious, had an eerie feeling to them, the color appearing as if the eyes were bleeding, a barely visible glow to them.

Four months have passed since the day of her arrival to Winterfell that the strange woman woke up, blinking her blind eyes owlishly, her body weak from having not eaten, her voice hoarse for having not spoken. The Stark family was having breakfast when the old Maester more or less burst into the room, saying she has woken up.

It was all calm, at first. The first gesture between the two sides was a simple offering of water to the recently awoken woman, a gesture which she gingerly, yet somehow accurately took considering her disability. Catelyn was once again quick to spot the small things, somehow noticing the slight hints of mannerism that would put some of the highborn ladies to shame, the way she drank without making a sound in small gulp even when she needed the water as much as a man in the middle of a desert. Putting the glass down on the small table beside her bed before anyone can even reach out to assist her, the woman's blood red eyes found their way to the small assembly, sizing each of them as if she saw them.

The old Maester has already delivered two of her children with a third on the way, but she sincerely doubted his assessment of her eyes at that very moment.

They remained silent for a long time, no one moving, before her husband finally spoke, greeting her slowly and explaining who they are and where she was.

The strange icy woman, on the other hand, simply seemed…confused. She said that she has never heard of Winterfell… or the Starks… or the North, her voice having a slight echo to it, unnerving the occupants of the chamber. Ned then tried other notable locations through all of the known world. King's landing, Essos, Bravos, the Summer isles, Asshai.

Nothing.

The woman simply shock her head slowly, once again in a regal manner.

Finally, she introduced herself simply as Lissandra from the Freijords. When Ned responded that he has never heard of it, she tried other names. Valoran, Runethera, Shadow Isles, Ionia… nothing. She spoke of completely unknown places. Poor old Maester Lywin scrambled for his most detailed map of the world and searched every corner of it, yet nothing ever matched what the woman spoke of. It was not hard to come to the conclusion that the woman was a long way from home and had no means to get back… that is, if she was telling the truth.

Ned asked then the question that has been bugging him since he found her underneath the heart tree, all those months ago. He asked her did she know what an Other is, yet the implication was clear by the tone of his voice_. 'Are you an Other?'_

The woman, on the other hand, remained impassive, uttering a simple no, and that no haunted Catelyn up to this day. The strange woman had remained impassive throughout the conversation, so that no could have been genuine, yet at the same time, the woman was too unnatural to be anything but one of _them_. A simply question of '_Are you a threat?_, courtesy of her husband, and Lissandra became a part of her household, much to Catelyn's dismay. Not only did she have to stand that bastard boy, but now there was her.

For the first years the woman remained silent and mostly hidden, barely interacting with anyone in the castle. It was when one day that Sansa stumbled upon her playing a large harp, the ghostly beautiful sounds of the tune that she was playing guiding the young girl to her, that Lissandra's interaction with the people truly began.

At first, the woman seemed cold, even hateful and resentful to anyone. She only agreed to teach Sansa how to play the harp only to stop the girl's endless begging, but Catelyn never left her little girl alone with that woman. With Arya been born shortly after her awakening, Lissandra did not have much interaction with the only child that so far took after Ned in coloring. But it was when Bran was born that they caught a glimpse of something different within the strange woman living beneath their roof.

She was there when Catelyn gave birth, clad in a simple dark blue dress with white outline and a piece of white cloth wrapped around her blind eyes, her white hair loosed like a mane of snow. For some reason, known only to the gods, Ned offered her to hold her precious baby, and unfortunately, Catelyn was still too weak to protest. Did her husband not realize that the very cold the woman gave off could kill the newborn?

Yet to her surprise, nothing happened. Bran's screaming ceased as soon as white-haired woman held him, the infant starring at the blind eyes hidden behind the cloth while the woman stood as if stunned, seemingly gazing at the infant, her lips slightly parted.

Lissandra mumbled something, barely audible, the occupants just catching: _'…so long'_

Moments turned into minutes as everyone stood still in the room, no one taking their eyes off from the pair, before the newborn extended a chubby hand from beneath all the layers of cloth that he was wrapped in and clumsily grasped a stand of snow-white hair in his fingers, the babe erupting into giggles.

The icy woman seemed stunned by the simple action, her eyebrows visibly shooting up from beneath the blindfold. Ned, on the other hand, only smiled and relieved her off of Bran, returning him to his rightful place at Catelyn's side, much to her relief.

Since that day, the Lissandra had become more open, or at least around the children, but not by much. Somehow Catelyn still remembered the story that Lissandra told the children one day when old Nan was sick, the story of the three sisters she called it, the story of Avarosa, Serylda and Narcissia. A strange tale of power, freedom, choice and betrayal and from the way she spoke, Catelyn believed for a moment that the woman was there when it all happened.

Over the years, matters at the Stark household fell into a routine, each child developing its own unique personality and obsession and it was up to the adults to manage them, the staff of the castle been able to do so much. While she was still greatly distrusted Lissandra, there were times when Catelyn was happy for her presence. More than once she has somehow managed to convince Arya to go back to her needle lessons and there were the many times that she found the strange woman looking down at an embarrassed looking Bran, lecturing her boy about climbing ruined towers, her voice the same cold haunting echoing one, yet with the barest hints of something more in it.

Sansa, for some reason decided to look at the outlandish woman as a role model, something to which Catelyn had mixed feelings for. On one hand, she was still just as unnatural as all those years ago, the cold feelings around her having not lessened one bit. On the other hand, she was the extremely refined. Just the way she walked was more akin to gliding rather than walking. On that accord, there was probably no better role model for her daughter. If only Arya took as much interest in such matters as did Sansa...

Her eldest, Robb, had taken to calling her aunt Liss, and for some reason, even though the boy understood just how unnatural she was, was perfectly fine with her. He even once jokingly said something about her been winter itself and the connection to the Stark words. Words that even to this day, fourteen years since Catelyn took the last name Stark, still send chills down her spine.

'_Winter is coming.'_ Though the woman, tightening her woolen cloak around her shoulders.

The Tully woman was still not sure how she had begun thinking about all that as she made her way to the godswood, the letter from King's Landing clutched in her gloved hand. Her husband had returned but a few hours earlier, having taken Bran to see his first execution of a deserter of the Night's watch, much to her dismay.

She found him sitting underneath the Heath Tree, cleaning the ancestral weapon of house Stark, Ice, a valyrian steel long sword. He always did that after an execution, sitting beneath the pale branches and red leaves of the weirwood tree, the carved face starring at his back and the seemingly bottomless pond in front.

"I still feel strange like an outsider when I come here." Said Catelyn, catching her husband's attention.

"You are a mother of five northerner children. You belong here." Responded Ned, the eerie silence of the small forest enveloping them.

Catelyn brought her hand up, the letter clutched in it, handing it to her husband.

"It is from King's Landing… Jon Arryn has passed away." Ned's grim face instantly shifted into that of deep pain, quickly snatching the letter from her hand and reading it quickly.

"I know how much you loved that man, Ned…"

"He was like a father to me…"

"The king is coming here." Said Catelyn. She never knew lord Arryn and even though she grieved for her husband's loss, she still focused on the more important matter at hand- the royal visit and a certain white-haired woman that just might cause problems.

"Aye, and probably half the court with him… damn that Robert." Said Ned, cursing his old friend. He dearly missed the man, but sometimes, he truly lived up to his house's words, doing things without even an ounce of though.

"What about Lissandra?" suddenly asked Catelyn, her voice sharp.

"What about her?"

"She can cause problems with the royal party! You know how southerners are! You know how I am! She is not natural!" nearly shouted the Stark matriarch.

"She is of the north and has been loyal to us for nine years. That is enough for me. We will speak no more of this." responded her husband with an air of finality.

Catelyn opened her mouth to argue once again, yet decided against it. Nomatter her distrust for the woman, what her husband said was true. Nine years she was with them, and while distant, she was still a somewhat part of their household. The common folk, for all their superstitious, have begun to trust her. Catelyn truly hoped that the royal visit went without a problem, especially one caused by Lissandra.

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**Hey everyone.**

**For starters, a few clarifications. Yes, Lissandra is blind. I read somewhere that the reason she wears that strange hat ornament thingy is because someone from Volibear's race damaged her eyes. Plus there was this brutally awesome fan art of her with red eyes. So... even if it is not cannon, this is how it is going to be in this story. it won't matter in the long run because she keeps her eyes covered anyway, even if she does not wear the weird hat thingy.**

**Now, the ice queen has not melted and become docile, but there were a few reason why she is so contained. She is smart and was quickly able to comprehend that she is in a different world and is simply careful. World travel is not a new thing to her, with so many champions in the league been from other worlds. What she did not expect was to form bond with the Stark children. This is what I tried to point out with Bran's birth. That deep beneath all that ice she is still human. Plus, with her no longer been on Valoran, the watchers can no longer influence her and set her on the ice crusade that she has been on from the very beginning.**

**Anyway, I hope you guys enjoyed it, Review it if you did.**

**Thank you for reading.**


	2. Chapter 2

**A Different kind of Winter chapter 2**

**I do not own League of Legends or Game of Thrones**

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A few hours after the party had returned from the execution the Stark family was having dinner, Catelyn having insisted on the old Maester dine with them so that they may discuss the preparations for the royal visit. Lissandra, as always, stood at the end of the table with the other 'unwanted' – Theon Greyjoy, a ward from Pyke, although everyone knew he was a prisoner to ensure the Ironborn's loyalty and Jon Snow, a bastard, a real thorn in Catelyn's eyes. A living reminder that her honorable husband has dishonored her. And finally there was her, Lissandra.

Most people stayed quite, only Catelyn and Lywin spoke with an occasional input from Ned. Bran was still looking uneasy, even after having cheered up with his new pup. It was his first execution, and the man's ravings still remained in his mind. His father obviously noted his discomfort and turned to him.

"What is it, Bran?" he asked, his voice ending any conversation.

"That man, father… what he said…" the boy began in a small voice.

"The ravings of a deserter driven mad." Eddard cut of Bran.

"But what if it is true?" asked the small boy in a fit of courage.

"The Others have been gone for millenniums. They are nothing but children's tales now." His father responded reassuringly. The boy was not fully convinced, yet did not question any further.

"You never told me… what are the Others, lord Stark." Came a haunting voice from the end of the table.

Everyone slowly turned and looked to the source, the white-haired woman's head fully turned to Eddard, her face impassive.

"I remember you asking me if I was one." She asked, lightly tilting her head to the side. It was not often that Lissandra spoke, but when she does, everyone falls silent instantly.

"Aye, I did ask you that." Began Ned after a slight pause, the man stroking his beard before continuing.

"Man-like demons made of ice, hair and skin as white as snow, eyes a deep blue. They attacked thousands of years ago, but were eventually pushed back and the Wall was built to hold them off. Since then, no one has seen them, or so the tale goes" Finished Eddard in his grim voice.

"And this man claimed he saw one?" she questioned.

"Aye, but as I said, the ravings of a mad man. The others haven't been seen in thousands of years."

"You are rather quick to dismiss them. Dragons flew in the skies but a hundred years ago from what master Lywin told me. Just because something is unlikely, doesn't mean it is not real." Responded Lissandra in a voice that sounded as if she believed it.

"Are you saying that the Others are real?" asked Eddard, looking suspiciously at the white-haired woman, his original assumption when he first saw her popping up in his head.

"There is no reason for them not to be. A Wall this big would not have been built just to keep primitives out." She responded, holding Eddard's 'gaze' for a second, her expression challenging the lord through the white blindfold, before returning to her food quietly.

It took a while for any conversation to resume afterwards and even though no one wanted to admit it, what Lissandra said made sense.

In the end, no one wanted to dwell on such though, especially with the royal visit fast approaching. No one but Lissandra.

When she came into this world, while confused massively, she was happy beyond measure. She was finally free, the Watcher's voices no longer echoing in her head. History remembers her as one that willingly gave up her freedom for power, but in truth, due to her larger magical affinity then either of her sisters, she absorbed more of the Watcher's gifts and that made it harder to resist their will.

In the past nine years, she has been slowly getting in touch with her long-lost humanity. She knew that she could never be the same naïve happy girl playing in the snow that she barely remembers in memories blurred from the centuries, but she could be the next best thing.

While most of the staff still kept their distance from her, the Stark children were happy to be around her. It was hard for her to restrain herself from using any of her powers and she knew that eventually, she will have to leave the Starks. It won't be long before they start questioning why does she not age. And yet, the closeness she has to the young wolfings, despite not been much to others, means the world to Lissandra. For centuries, she stood in the frozen north of Runneta, all alone, planning how to bury the world in ice with only the whispers of the watchers to keep her company.

Yet now, if not something else, Lissandra desire to see the children grow and have families of their own. After all this time, the Ice Queen did not wish to part with what small measure of peace she had found, even if deep down, she knew that it could not last.

Snapping back to the present, the white-haired lady though to her recent discussion. With her unable to see, learning the history of this world was rather hard for her, having to turn to alternative methods such as old nan or the children, but given how she has shaped the history of her world, she knew that what was known is but a fraction of the truth.

Not long after awakening and realizing she was in a new world, Lissandra did a sort of a search of her own, one day simply sitting in the godswood and extending her senses to the maximum. What she felt was both unusual and worrying. This world barely had any magic users and the few that there were are all weak, but small candles in an endless night. What was worrying, however, was that there were two major bastions of magical energies in two locations, one to the east and one to the north, and while one felt like fire, the other felt like ice… and they both reeked of death.

As she glided through the warm halls of Winterfell, she wondered herself what would she be doing during the royal visit. Even if Caitlyn did nothing but complain to everyone about her, she did bring up a good point. While the ice queen did sort of fit into northerner lore, there were now suspicious close-minded southerners on their way to Winterfell. Least of all, with what she heard from the Stark patriarch, the current king, Robert Bara-something, was a major Targaryan hater and from what Lissandra understood, said family had very distinctive features, some of which she unfortunately matched.

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It was in the early afternoon that a dark-haired blur collided with Lissandra from around a corner as she walked, the tall woman gasping and falling to the floor, a petite girl sitting onto of her, blinking owlishly her silver eyes.

"Sorry, aunt Liss. Septa Mordaine was chasing me."

"Sewing lessons again, little Arya?" spoke Lissandra, gently removing the wild girl from herself before rising.

"It's just a waste of time anyway! And all I hear is Sansa you are so good at this, so good at that! I can't stand it! I would rather go riding… or practice with a bow… or spar with stick with someone." Rambled on the petite Stark.

Lissandra allowed herself a small smile, the expression still coming hard to her face after all this time.

"You cannot have everything, little wolfling. Perhaps a compromise. Speak with your parents about it, civilly."

"My mother would never allow it. She does not love me… it has always been Sansa…" Lissandra felt pity for the girl infront of her. The bent down a little and put her icy hand on either side of Arya's face, the girl slightly flinching at the cold.

"Your parents love you, Arya. The fact that your mother allows you to get away with all of this is proof enough. You have to remember that Caitlyn is from the south. They do things differently there. Just look at who is teaching you. A septa, a southerner."

The younger Stark daughter had the decency to look ashamed for even thinking that, yet she raised her head , her big silver eyes fill with hopelessness.

"Yet she would never allow it! Nomatter what!" she shouted.

"But your father just might." a sudden spark of hope reignited itself in Arya's eyes.

"Your father has the final say in this castle. Propose a compromise. For every hour of needle-work, you get an hour with the master at arms, or at the archery range, or wherever you choose." Before Lissandra completely finished her statement, the girl has already broken into a run.

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The day has finally come. The castle was looking it's best and so did the residents within. People were running around, constantly worrying if this was in order or if that was proper. Lissandra found it rather amusing, really. Especially with all the effort Caitlyn was putting into it all, the ice queen almost hoped that something would go out of order.

After the little Arya incident, the woman began hating her even more. Even going as far as having a shouting match with Lissandra, although Caitlyn was the only one doing the shouting. Lissandra simply stood there, her face impassive although on the inside, she was having a grin that would put the Cheshire cat to shame.

From the very beginning the Stark matriarch had an unhidden hatred for Lissandra and the ice queen was responding by creating problems for her to solve, although this was the first time she actually took the blame for it. In the end, Eddard came in and broke the argument, stating that it was actually a wise suggestion on Lissandra's part, otherwise, Arya would be simply constantly running away from the septa. Of course, that matter little to Caitlyn and she just stormed out of the room.

And yet, here they were now, patiently waiting for the royals to appear through the gate. Lissandra stood with the second line of people, yet with her height she was still able to see everything clearly. The way Eddard stood tall and despite his grim face, Lissandra felt he was rather relaxed about this whole ordeal. Least could be said about Caitlyn who was constantly fretting about the appearance of her children and was glaring at anyone who so much as moved a single step.

And then Lissrandra's wish came true. Little Arya came running in from the side, her simple grey dress stained with mud while her head was covered in a guard's helm. All the males cracked a smirk at the sight, Ned stopping her and taking the helmet of her head, passing it to Ser Roddrick. Naturally, running around with the metal helmet on has left Arya's previously fixed hair a mess. Or so Lissandra gathered from the way Caitlyn was furiously trying to fix it before the younger daughter ripped herself from her mother's hand and pushing Bran away, taking her spot on the front row just as the first riders began appearing through the gate.

Even if Lissandra had learned to adapt to her…disability, there was still a long way to go. She was able to sense presences and the shapes of the world around her, yet more detailed objects were still out of her reach, sort to speak.

A large man then entered the courtyard, his horse's hooves creating a much greater impact on the ground, the ice queen having to wonder how did the animal did not simply collapse under all the strain it was put under. Eventually a large wheelhouse entered the yard just as the large man dismounted, but not before everyone dropped to their knees.

As the king came stomping towards Eddard and signaled for them to rise, an awkward silence descended upon the yard just as several people came out from the wheelhouse.

"You've grown fat!" nearly shouted Robert, Ned responding with a pointed look toward the king's own belly, times more bloated then the Stark lord.

A booming laughter ensure as the two men embraced each other, the king proceeding to look at each of the Stark children. It was when he returned back infront of Ned that he finally noticed her.

"What is this treachery, Ned! Why are you housing a Targaryan! EXPLAIN YOUSELF!" boomed Robert, many of the soldiers around putting a hand on their swords.

"She is no Targaryan, Robert, calm youself. She has been with us for nine years. We will talk more on this later if you want." Spoke Eddard, trying to placate his old friend.

"Not later! Now! Show me to your crypts, Ned, I wish to pay my respects…"

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**Thank you for reading.**


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